


talk lin-manuel miranda to me, baby

by wallakihyun



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Amercian High School au, Idk where im going with this, M/M, and they're all fine arts kids(tm), fine arts au, god help me, hyungwon the theater elitist geek, kihyun the choir headass, there's going to be smut at some point, they're all seniors except changkyun, wonho the ultimate Band Kid
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:44:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallakihyun/pseuds/wallakihyun
Summary: In which Minhyuk might be obsessed with annoying Hyungwon from theater, and Kihyun so does not have a thing for Wonho the band kid.





	

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd so excuse the errors

**** Kihyun isn’t angry. He’s entirely  _ justifiably  _ affronted at the fact that choir has yet again received the lowest allotment of funds in the entire Fine Arts department. There’s a difference, he thinks as he crumples up the paper in his hands and tosses it (it only skitters feebly across his desk, Kihyun has to work on his throw), making the choir vice-president sitting next to him flinch. Kihyun has a fleeting sense of glee at that, at the fact that he’s finally the all-powerful choir president, a senior, and that he can make the nervous underclassmen frightened by his mere presence. It’s refreshing. But then Kihyun remembers how much of a failure he is as a president to  _ the most important artistic institution in Lowell High School _ , and he lets out an indignant huff. 

 

It’s all because of that damn Mr. Ross, Kihyun knows. Who the fuck makes the  _ marching band director  _ head of the fine arts department? It’s just asking for corruption, misdirection of resources to the cheap, garish superficiality that is marching band. Those bastards with elitist complexes, Kihyun thinks. It’s all because of their association with football. Which makes their glaring superficiality even more obvious, really, wasting precious music and fine instruments on a ten-minute procession before stupid hulking athletes butt heads, and then getting glory for it. It’s all football’s fault, he decides. It is the direct root of all the misfortune in American high school culture - social status, waste of school funds, rewarding of mediocrity. Maybe Kihyun should write his AP Seminar research paper on that. “How Football, and by Association Band, Are Ruining American High Schools.” It has a nice ring to it. 

 

The vice-president - Kihyun can never really remember the name of the perpetually frightened junior sitting next to him - clears his throat. Kihyun’s glaring match with the haphazard stack of club details on his desk is broken as he turns to look at the kid who is tugging at his lip as he tries to gauge Kihyun’s reaction to being interrupted. “Yeah, Seunghwan?”

 

“Seungkwan,” the junior corrects with a sheepish smile, his fingers traveling down to tug at the hem of his gray  _ LOWELL HIGH CHOIR  _ hoodie next. “Um…” he gestures at the rest of the choir practice room that is significantly fuller than the last time Kihyun looked up from the desk. “Should we start?”

 

There’s still a trickle of students filing in, and rushed conversations flood the room as the students scramble to find their stands and their sheet music. Kihyun does a quick head count - not everyone is here, but they’ll show up in a couple of minutes, he figures; it’s that time of the school year when classes transition from a content, syllabus-infested lull into a drudgery permeated with exams and anxious studying. They still haven’t adjusted to their schedules yet. So he nods at Seungkwan, being sure not to smile more than a little - he can’t risk losing his totally-impressive-presidential facade this early into the climax of his choir career - and gets up to knock at the rather useless whiteboard behind his desk. The chatter fades into a low murmur, and Kihyun coughs before announcing, “Hey, guys, we’re beginning.”

 

There’s a flurry of quiet activity as papers rustle and conversations are tied up with quick giggles. Kihyun heads to his own stand - in front of everyone else’s, he notes with a glowing feeling in his chest - and files through his papers to find today’s material. There’s a genuine smile playing at his lips as he signals the choir to begin, all anger pushed back momentarily as he immerses himself in the euphoric headspace that choir induces. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Minhyuk has a grin on his face as he enters the backstage area of the auditorium through the curtains, carelessly stepping over the backdrops strewn across the expanse of wood. (He’s pretty sure a girl with a paintbrush in her hand is scowling at him - perhaps it was her sky that he had walked over during last year’s year-end production.) He draws his cardigan closer around his shoulders - the auditorium is always at least ten degrees colder than the rest of the school buildings - as he’s slammed with a block of cool air. Minhyuk has just had a painful refresher of exactly why he fucking hates school during his calculus test last period, and a reminder of why he’s still friends with Kihyun and Changkyun, those fucking nerds, those fucking dweebs who Minhyuk has exclusively relied on to pass all of his math classes. 

 

But none of that matters now, because Minhyuk has spotted his favorite pair of spectacles resting on his favorite nose, with his favorite hand pushing back his favorite luscious brown hair to expose his favorite forehead and and his favorite concentrated eyebrows. His favorite lips too, Minhyuk thinks as he bounds closer to Hyungwon, who is sitting on a flimsy folding chair and scribbling in a booklet, his lips pouting as he lets out a sigh. And his favorite stupidly lanky body, wide shoulders that are exceedingly satisfying to dig fingers into as Hyungwon’s hips press into Minhyuk’s and those luscious lips ghost along Minhyuk’s neck - 

 

“Hey, babe.” Minhyuk can’t keep the unadulterated glee out of his voice, but it doesn’t matter because he knows his extreme excitement annoys Hyungwon, and Hyungwon’s annoyance turns Minhyuk on. 

 

“Ugh. Minhyuk,” Hyungwon looks up from the booklet - a script, Minhyuk notes as he stands behind Hyungwon and leans down to snake his arm around Hyungwon’s unfortunately clothed shoulder, chin coming to a rest on the smooth expanse of Hyungwon’s clavicle. “Why are you here?”

 

“To see you, princess,” Minhyuk drawls, satisfaction pooling in his stomach as Hyungwon groans and glares at him through the corner of his eye. Fuck, he loves this so much. “Kihyun was supposed to give me a ride home but he has his idiotic choir practice, so I wanted to spend time with my favorite person while I wait.”

 

“Well, you  _ can’t, _ ” Hyungwon says forcefully. “Our first production of the year is next month, and I’m both the student director and one of the lead actors. I’m busy, we have to get blocking done in two weeks.”

 

“ _ Babe,” _ Minhyuk whines into Hyungwon’s ear, grinning at Hyungwon’s wince. “Don’t you feel sorry for -”

 

“Also, if you call Kihyun’s choir practice idiotic to his face, you’ll be gutted and staked against the school fences faster than you can moan for help.”

 

Minhyuk laughs. He’s considering saying something along the lines of  _ thinking of me moaning for you, baby? _ but decides against it - Minhyuk’s still aiming for a quick blowjob session in the empty (he checked) orchestra practice room, and he doesn’t want to push Hyungwon over the edge before he gets it. “Yeah, whatever, like I care. He’s gotten even more prissy about it since he was chosen to be choir president. He swaggers his short ass around the school like it means something. Intimidates the freshmen and gloats like it means something, that pathetic grubber.”

 

Hyungwon snickers, and his tensed shoulders finally relax, settling against Minhyuk’s chest. “Oh my god, do you think he’s torturing the freshmen in there right now?”

 

Minhyuk internally cheers as Hyungwon’s head also settles into Minhyuk’s chest. They’re moving exceptionally fast today, Minhyuk notes. Hyungwon is probably just as desperate and frustrated and stressed as he is. This release - mindless, friendly sexual pleasure - has always been good for both of them. He decides to take a chance and lightly trails his free hand down the flimsy fabric of Hyungwon’s white shirt. “Mmm, probably,” he murmurs, lips centimeters away from Hyungwon’s deliciously warm, tan neck. Minhyuk’s mouth is  _ totally  _ not watering right now. 

 

Hyungwon shudders a little at Minhyuk’s breath against his neck. “Oh, god, you’re so fucking thirsty, Lee,” he groans, but there’s a hint of a smile in his voice as he utters Minhyuk’s last name.

 

Minhyuk giggles. “I am,” he agrees, his voice back to its natural high pitch. “And you look like you could use some stress relief, Director Chae.” 

 

Hyungwon shakes his head. “I’m busy, I told you.”

 

“ _ Hyungwon, _ ” Minhyuk whines, “ _ please. _ ”

 

“No.” Hyungwon tries to return to underlining the script in his hands, but Minhyuk tugs at his arm.

 

“I’ll fuck you to your Lin-Manuel Miranda playlist, baby,” Minhyuk whispers into Hyungwon’s ear. “You’ll come so fast -”

 

“Oh my god, Minhyuk,  _ shut up, _ ” Hyungwon gasps, eyes darting around the room to see if anyone has heard as he tries to pry Minhyuk’s insistent fingers off his arm. 

 

“If you want me to shut up, give me what I want,” Minhyuk offers in a sing-song voice. He lets his hand ghost over Hyungwon’s nipple, now, and that seems to do the trick. 

 

“Fine. Fuck.” Hyungwon pushes Minhyuk off and stands up, stretching as he nods at one of the other theater brats Minhyuk has zero interest in and mouths  _ I’ll be back _ .  

 

Minhyuk lets out a short whoop and snakes his finger around Hyungwon’s forearm, tugging him toward the exit to the fine arts hall where Minhyuk’s favorite unused orchestra room is located. 

 

He checks his watch as he speed-shuffles through the hall, Hyungwon whining behind him to  _ slow the fuck down, Minhyuk,  _ and notes that they have fifteen minutes before Kihyun’s practice ends.

 

A grin stretches across Minhyuk’s face. Perfect. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK WHAT I WAS DOING THIS IS PURE SHIT IDK 
> 
> ugh im sorry
> 
> i'm a slut for comments


End file.
